Coming Out in Midlife

FOREIGNER

I’ve always had this inner sense that something was different about me.

In college I befriended the Teaching Assistants (TAs) who came from Europe. I learned about Spain, they secretly let me live with them for a few months, and I shared clothing with my friend Lara from Italy. Looking back it’s likely because as “foreigners” navigating American life I felt more similar to them than my own college peers. The TAs mirrored my own feeling of being different, navigating life in foreign lands, a place that wasn’t home.

Outsiders together.

The way of “the people” never felt natural to me. It still doesn’t. Pop culture, trends, the typical way of conversations and relating, the standard way of gathering, none of it felt right. Not fulfilling. But like most of us I just assumed there was something wrong with me and tried to keep moving forward with this secret inside, hoping nobody would know, nobody would see.

Shame.

I was well-adjusted by all the typical markers in terms of functioning in society yet inside it was all unease. This was my baseline starting at a very young age. Body tension. Holding myself in.

I hope they don’t see.

When I look back at my life before my sexuality shift, I recognize I had always had a deep sense of queerness within me. Not sexually speaking, my queerness was invisible, and ran deeper than my sexuality, straight to my core. Different in an indescribable way.

Ill at ease.

VISION

My life started to unravel during Covid.

Clarity.

A turning point for many of us, an enlightening period for me. I started meditating, exploring spirituality, intuitive healings and deeper healing work. Journaled like crazy. It was the first time I truly deeply got into ME. Self-discovery was the name of the game.

A vision of this woman kept coming to me. She felt like something I’d never experienced, an indescribable sense of feeling at home. We were on the beach, it was as if we were dancing when we interacted, it was all grace, all FLOW. Wind, water, connection, natural. Whenever she appeared my body felt completely at ease. Zero tension. No more holding it in.

Exhale.

I told my husband at that time about her. She’s my SOUL SISTER I told him! The friend I’ve always wanted. She’s out there and one day the friend of my dreams will enter my life.

I felt less like a foreigner when I was with her.

I had an intuitive healing session in the midst of all of this self-discovery work and the woman said,

“Julia, are you exploring your sexuality?”

And I laughed out loud, “Are you saying I’m a lesbian??”

“I’m not labeling you in any way,” she said.

“No, I’m not. I’m married, I’m into men, I’m definitely not a lesbian.”

We proceeded, yet after a quick moment I said without thinking, “There is this vision I’m having of this woman - she’s a friend though it’s not sexual, I think I’m supposed to meet her soon. I call her my soul sister. So maybe you’re picking that up?”

“Ah” she said. “The sexuality question is coming up really strong for me,” she shared.

Were any of you actually encouraged to explore your sexuality freely from a young age?

And then continuously at different stages of your life?

This woman’s seemingly bizarre question opened a door that I didn’t even know was there to be opened.

THINGS CHANGE

Months after this session before I knew that a sexuality shift was definitely my reality, my husband and I agreed our marriage was complete after many conversations and explorations.

The idea seemed to come out of the blue in that first moment- a true intuitive moment - I heard a strong powerful voice and my body shook as I was preparing dinner for the family. The voice, the message was: the marriage is complete. After processing for a few months, my ex-husband knew intuitively that this was the truth, the marriage had reached a natural conclusion.

Lessons learned.

Growth and evolution.

We exposed each other's vulnerabilities and were meant to heal them now. Separately in a new dynamic. Unchaining ourselves from replicating patterns.

Our divorce story is perhaps more beautiful than our marriage story.

It’s a story of ending from a place of love rather than clinging from a place of fear.

Things certainly do change. The intuitive healer gave me a glimpse into the future that I wasn’t aware of yet - my sexuality had shifted. Randomly. This doesn’t happen, aren’t you born one way or the other? It almost felt like one day a switch was turned off and another turned on. Truly it was that distinct.

I thought I was the only one.

I didn’t realize this was “a thing” for some of us. I always thought we were born this way or that way - gay or straight. And that it’s fixed. And if someone came out later in life it meant they were “in the closet” until they came out. After talking with many I’ve learned this is true for some - some know at a young age that they are gay and that is fixed throughout their lives. Many know they are heterosexual and that remains fixed. Some are bisexual. Some who come out later in life realize in hindsight those special friendships they had were actually massive crushes they subconsciously denied. Some knew all along but recognized the unsafe conditions they’d face when sharing the news so tried to wish it away.

Many subconsciously denied what they knew all along.

Internalized homophobia. Fear of being other.

I didn’t have a crush on my girlfriends, I didn’t meet someone who made me realize I was gay by instant attraction. That would have made it feel easier to wrap my head around. Mine was more subtle, a vision, a divine messenger, than a deep spiritual knowing without rational explanation. I don’t believe in any way I was “closeting” myself all those years. I also understand why many do.

Our stories are all different.

We have all been hiding different parts of ourselves for different reasons.

It’s hard to sit with that when you don't have an explanation. Binary is easier to sit with. It’s this or that. Yet sometimes it’s both and sometimes it’s “things just change.”

Fluidity.

Since I’ve lived my life feeling like a foreigner it turns out coming out was easier for me which isn’t a typical story for most. I’d worked though so much shame about ME that shame about my sexuality wasn’t as big. But when you come out in midlife it confuses people and scares others and so there have been a few awkward conversations along the way.

And since I look the way I look most assume by default I’m straight and many assume there’s a husband in my life not knowing I’m divorced and queer. Some of my neighbors don’t know. When is it appropriate to announce? I used to share freely and then I learned to be more discerning.

A mom dropped her kids off for a playdate at the house a while ago and remarked on how “all the women in Maine dress like lesbians.” Gulp. Because of my more classically feminine style she assumed I wasn’t one of “them.” I didn’t share my queerness with her.

Sometimes I wonder what they’ll say when they know.

FEAR

Marching in a parade doesn't light me up so instead I volunteered to help out a local LGBTQ+ community organization during Pride month one year. During the last Pride event I attended in June there was a group outside the venue holding signs. I could feel the fear, the hate oozing from the crowd. The skin on their faces almost appeared to have a grayish tint. Their skin tone reflected their darker feelings and thoughts.

I’ve conveniently forgotten the wording of the hateful messages painted on their signs.

It was the first time I had walked through hatred.

I felt mildly intimidated walking past them yet more than that I felt for them. Of all the ways they could spend this Saturday afternoon they chose to shame queer people, a group ridden with so much shame you can feel it in the air when you’re among the community.

And then I thought of some of the queer people attending Pride perhaps for their first time since coming out. How did they feel seeing the hate in these people’s eyes? Did it activate any deeply rooted shame? What about the internalized homophobia most of us grapple with?

Feeling seen and shunned. The dreaded combo.

Shame.

TRANSMUTING

My daughter shared the story of Ruby Bridges with us at dinner awhile ago. At 6 years old she was the first Black student to integrate into William Frantz Elementary School, a previously all white school in New Orleans. Students left the school, only one teacher was willing to teach Ruby. Why? Fear. Fear of her darker skin color drove many away. Yet Ruby attended school each day accompanied by federal marshals. She was in a class alone with just her teacher.

Outsiders together.

According to my daughter, Ruby prayed for all the people who were protesting as she walked to school. She prayed for them and hoped they would be forgiven.

May Ruby and her teacher be an inspiration to us all.

Sometimes we walk into uncharted territory alone, sometimes we can be the one to support another walking a new path.

If we look at our fear of the “other” we may be less likely to operate from it and play into the illusion of division.

I felt a sense of fear when I first connected with someone in the transgender community.

This is new. This is different. Discomfort.

Then I noticed her soul glimmering in her eyes. I saw love. My fear diminished and I remembered.

There’s nothing to fear.

Things change. New discoveries await. Fear lurks. Love is beneath. Always there, waiting.

Is there a part of you that’s ready to come out? A shamed part? A shunned part? A gift?

Whatever it is, since it’s part of you, it’s most certainly glorious.

Julia